urn, ^mmm 



'* 



PREACHED AT 



KINGSCHAPEL, BOSTON. 



BY 



JAMES FREEMAN 



SAMUEL GARY. 



V 



.^rota^y of Cort^^^^ 



1 Q;^7 



BOSTON : 

PRIXTED BY SE^yELL PHELPS, NO. 5, COURT STREET. 

1820. 



^7<3 

.'2. ST 



SERMON I. 



OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF MRS. SUSAN BULFINCH, 
RELICT OF THOMAS BULFINCH, M. D. 



REVELATION xiv. 13, 

blessed are the dead who die in the lord from 

henceforth: yea, saith the spirit, that they may 
rest from their labours j and their m'orks do fol- 
LOW THEM. 

THE life of every human being is a trust con- 
fided to hira by his Creator, to be withdrawn at his 
pleasure, and to be used well, while it is permitted 
to continue. We know that our powers must be 
laid down in the grave. And that we can look 
forward to such an event without insupportable 
terrour; that we can overcome the reluctance with 
which the body submits to dissolution by consid- 
erations that affect the mind, by animating views 
of futurity, by hopes that are well founded, and 
promises that cannot be violated or forgotten — is a 
privilege for which we are indebted to Christianity. 



4 SERMON 1. 

From henceforth they who die in the Lord are 
blessed. From henceforth^ that is, as I understand 
it, from the time when Christ overcame death, and 
tore off the veil which enveloped him, and taught 
mankind that the change they so much dreaded, 
was a mere introduction to an improved state of 
existence ; — the fears of the upright and their un- 
certainty should cease. The life, which is about 
to be withdrawn, will be restored, a more valuable 
gift, hereafter. The perishable form, whose uses 
on earth are ended, will revive and be immortal. 
The internal sources of felicity, the powers, the 
affections, the virtues, which are to be closed up 
by death, will again send forth streams, forever 
fresh and inexhaustible. 

The change which is effected by death is, how- 
ever, considered by the text as a blessing to those 
only, who die in the Lord. Who then are these per- 
sons, and why is their departure out of this life a 
blessing ? These are the topics of my discourse. 

I. Ft is probable that these words have some 
particular reference to those heroic Christians of 
antiquity, who defended the cause of their Master 
through the miseries of a most sanguinary perse- 
cution, and who laid down their lives, expecting to 
be rewarded with the crown of martyrdom. But 
the language is applicable to all, who have lived 



SERMON I. 5 

and died in the faith and hope of the gospel ; who 
have reverenced the God and Father of Jesus, and 
kept his commandments, and ingrafted his spirit 
upon their own hearts. To die in the Lord, or 
which is the same thing in the Christian faith, in 
such manner as to be entitled to the Christian pri- 
vileges at the resurrection, it is necessary to have 
acted worthy of this faith, to have maintained an 
invariable love of Christ, and to have devoted life 
to his service. 

Now the love, which a true Christian cherishes 
for his Master, is founded on a regular, devout 
contemplation of the excellence of his character, 
and of his sublime acts of beneficence. Jesus has 
gone whither our senses cannot reach him. He is 
known to us only by what he has done for our 
felicity, and by what he taught. His disciples 
therefore delight to dwell upon his image, as they 
find it delineated in the scriptures ; they seek to 
imbibe some portion of his spirit ; they aim to walk 
in their different vocations, as he himself walked, 
or as he would have directed them ; they treasure 
up his precepts in their memories ; they suffer no 
day to pass by, without recurring to this favourite 
subject of contemplation, and without additional 
efforts to resemble their venerated model more 
perfectly. 



6 SERMON 1. 

Their love is steady, profound, sincere ; — uncon- 
querable by adversity or by death. They find 
themselves perhaps compelled to endure more se- 
vere sufleiinfrs than fall to the lot of others : their 
bereavements may be peculiarly afflictive, their 
hearts frequently and deeply vrounded, their means 
of beneficence abridged or cut off, their fidelity and 
perseverance requited unjustly. Yet none of these 
things ever move them. The spirit of the apostles 
and martyrs, that pure love of Christ, which for- 
bade them to shrink for a moment from their duty, 
attaches these Christians to his cause with equal 
enthusiasm. They remember the exalted charac- 
ter of him whom they serve, the intimate commu- 
nion which subsisted between him and his Father, 
the unrivalled powers with which his Father in- 
vested him ; — that he was a mediator or messenger 
of kindness from the Supreme Being to a depraved 
world, qualified most amply and most perfectly to 
reconcile sinners to their offended Creator, to save, 
as it is expressed, to the utmost all who come unto 
God by him; that he is the appointed Judge of 
mankind at the last day, and will be the author of 
eternal salvation to those who obey him. 

They delight to consider what Christ has actu- 
ally added to their enjoyments, how much they 
owe to his voluntary humiliation, his victory over 
the world and its temptations, his submission to a 



SERMON I. 7 

life of misery. They foel that whatever safety is 
to be found under the influence of an immaculate 
system of moral and religious truth ; whatever 
consolation in the assurance that the repenting 
sinner will find forgiveness in heaven; whatever 
support is given to our virtue, and comfort to our 
sorrows in the certainty of a future state of letri- 
bution and felicity — are the gift of this great ben- 
efactor of the human race, who did not hesitate for 
their sakes to sacrifice his life. — They who live in 
Christ and are devoted to Christ, are familiar with 
these truths. Their reverence and their gratitude 
make them habitually attentive to his honour. 
They are jealous with a godly jealousy, lest it 
should be wounded by the neglect of friends or by 
the scorn of enemies. They feel an attempt to 
diminish that exalted veneration, which they believe 
to be his due, more sensibly than an indignity offer- 
ed to themselves. 

With such views, and such love to their Saviour, 
these Christians are assiduous in studying the 
books which contain his instructions, that their 
faith may be confirmed, that they may be able to 
give a reason for what they believe, that their views 
of Christian truth may be distinct and enlightened. 
They do this with a fair and faithful application of 
the powers which God has given them ; conscious 
that there are difficulties in the search for truth ; 



8 SERMON I. 

fearful lest undue prepossessions may Influence 
them too strongly ; and with hearts raised to the 
Fountain of all wisdom to guide their inquiries, 
and save them from falling into any dangerous 
errour. They are humble, because they feel that 
human beings can know but in part ; they are 
tolerant, from a sense of their own fallibility and 
infirmities ; they are candid and affectionate to 
those who view the gospel with other eyes, be- 
cause this was the very spirit of their benevolent 
Master. 

Their love of truth leads them to encourao;e all 
judicious endeavours to clear up the obscurities of 
the scriptures. They are interested in those an- 
cient manners and customs and traits of character, 
those modes of speaking and thinking and acting, 
which were familiar to the sacred writers, and to 
which there are continual allusions. They delight 
to trace the progress of the divine dispensations 
to mankind ; to observe the manner in which the 
love of God has been manifested in different peri- 
ods ; the progress of human society, of its know- 
ledge and its virtue, till that star at length arose in 
the East, by whose influence the nations are healed, 
by whose light they are guided, — that star which 
can never set and never be extinguished. 

This devotedness of heart to Christ is the source 
of innumerable good actions and of the most es- 



SERMON 1. 9 

tlraable moral qualities. They know that Jesus 
did not prove his love to God by mere habits of 
contemplation, but by activity and usefulness. His 
example, his diligence, the virtues which he loved 
and the course which he pursued, are constantly 
before their eyes. They are dissatisfied with them- 
selves when time has been consumed in indolence, 
and soraethino; which oufxht to have been done, 
has been neglected. This feeling always rouses 
them to exertion. They call to mind their duties 
and their responsibility. They feel the trust which 
God has committed to them in their children, their 
connexions, their dependants ; in the vicious, whom 
it is in their power to reform, the ignorant, whom 
their knowledge can enlighten, the indigent, whom 
their affluence can relieve. They consider that 
the life of Jesus was a life of beneficence, and they 
seek to promote the cause in which he laboured, 
the cause of virtue, the cause of social happiness, 
by their instructions and their example. 

They know that their influence in society is one 
of those talents which is given by God to be used 
well, and for which they are responsible ; that their 
good or bad actions, their language, their deport- 
ment is observed and imitated ; that it is important 
therefore to be guarded and circumspect in their 
behaviour, to encourage no malignity, no danger- 
ous or unsocial habits by expressions of approba- 
2 



10 SERMON I. 

tion or smiles of complacency ; to be condescend- 
irio' to the weak, and kind to those Avhose intentions 
are pure though their manners may be repuLsive ; 
to bring forth excellencies that are concealed by 
timidity ; to be attentive to the necessities, the in- 
iirmities, the feelinfj-s and the rii>;hts of all around 
them. They feel it their duty to display the power 
of Christian principle in their personal as well as 
social dispositions, in their habitual temperance and 
moderation, tenderness and good will, in their 
firmness, their integrity, their submission to the 
will of the Supreme Being, their respect for reli- 
gious institutions, their cheerfulness, their forbear- 
ance. Whatsoever things, in one word, are true, 
honest, just, lovely, and of good report, these 
things it is their most fervent desire to remember 
and to practise, — holding the faith of their Master 
in unity of spirit, in the bond of peace, and in 
righteousness of life. 

II. These then are the persons who live and 
die in the Lord Jesus, and whose death is blessed. 
It is blessed because they rest from their labours. 
We know that Christians, however sincere in their 
faith, are not exempted from the calamities incident 
to human nature. They never have been thus 
exempted. The immediate followers of Jesus 
were taught to prepare themselves for a life of 



SERMON I. 11 

suffering ; and to look beyond this world for rest 
and uninterrupted felicity. They encountered tri- 
als, more difficult, it is true, than are imposed upon 
us, and rendered necessary by the state of the 
world at that time and by the nature of their em- 
ployments. But they were neither promised nor 
did they expect an adequate recompense on earth. 
They laboured, that the rest which succeeded their 
labours might be more sweet ; they used the pow- 
ers committed to ihem, for tlie sake ot laying thera 
down in due time honourably ; they thought less 
of the means than the end, less of life and its en- 
joyments than of their departure i[) peace and 
hope, less of the race than the crown. 

The life of a Cliristian is not necessarily a life 
of disquietude, and contention with the vicious ; 
because in an improved state of society virtue is 
generally estimated as it deserves, and is allowed 
to be the safety and the ornament of man. Yet 
whose virtue can save him from grief and disap- 
pointment, from unexpected poverty, from accidents 
that throw a cloud over the path of life, from the 
pains of a lingering disease ? The upright often 
find life a gift, from which they derive no pleasure, 
and from which they would willingly be released. 
They find themselves alone, the survivors of their 
friends, of their dearest sympatliies, of their pow- 
ers of enjoyment. Their understandings may be- 



12 SERMON I. 

come feeble, and doubts and perplexities may op- 
press them. There is the I'ear that they have 
gained too little or that tliat little may be lost ; the 
painful vigilance with which they are obliged to 
guard their conduct and restrain their passions ; 
the temptations and trials which beset them in 
every step of their pilgrimage, — from all these 
they are relieved by death. The conflict is over ; 
the weary are at rest ; the bustle and the care and 
the anijuish is ended. 

They are blessed too, because their works do 
follow tlum. They carry with them to another 
world the moral excellencies which they have 
acquired in this, and which have prepared them 
for a state of perfect purity. What they have 
done is not lost. Their acts of beneficence, their 
piety, their personal righteousness, the fidelity and 
courage with which they have kept the faith, com- 
pose the bright robe, which admits them to the 
society of angels. They pass into a state of ex- 
istence, where their good dispositions will be called 
into perpetual exercise, and their intellectual vigour 
and their love of knowledge will forever increase ; 
where truth will be unveiled, and the design of 
God in creating the universe, and the end of his 
mysterious dispensations, and the perfections of his 
own character, will be seen more clearly. They 
who have cultivated an ardent love of truth, and 



SERMON I. 13 

they who have taught their hearts to feci the 
charms of virtue, will enter into a state congenial 
with their habits, and in which these habits will be 
an endless source of felicity. No prejudices, of 
which it is as hard to be sensible as to be divested, 
will obstruct the mind in its progress ; no unsocial 
affection will obtrude itself, nor doubts, nor false- 
hood : for the Lamb, that is in the midst of the 
throne, will guide his followers, and lead them to 
fountains of hving water. 

This is a consummation, my friends, to which we 
should all aspire, and which we may gain, by living 
in the faith of Christ and in the practice of his 
precepts. Let us endeavour to be followers of 
them, who sustained this character while living, 
and have departed in peace. When we see the 
righteous, as we have recently seen, passing from 
our eyes and our aifections to inherit the Christian 
promises, let us remember what they once were, 
and what they have gained, and comfort one anoth- 
er with these words. S. C. 



SERMON II. 



OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF MRS. SUSAN BULFINCH. 



PSALM XXXVn. 10. 

THE LORD KNOWETH THE DAYS OF THE UPRIGHT. 

IN this psalm David takes a view of the dif- 
ferent states of the righteous and the wicked. The 
language appears to refer to the rewards, which 
God bestows, and to the punishments, which he 
inflicts, in the present world ; not in that world, 
which is beyond the grave. For it was addressed 
to a nation, which was chosen by the Lord to be 
his peculiar people ; which was under a theocracy, 
that is, of which God was the king, and who sanc- 
tioned his laws by temporal happiness and misery. 
But by such an interpretation as we, who are en- 
lightened with the revelation of Christianity, are 
accustomed to make of the Old Testament, the 



16 SERMON n. 

psalm may be apj)lled to the rewards and punish- 
ments, which are future. In this sense its promises 
and threats are strictly true in the present age ; 
whilst in many instances they fail of being any longer 
applicable in the sense, in which they were origi- 
nally expressed. Adopting this explanation, one 
of the most consoling passages of the psalm is 
contained in the words, which I have chosen for 
my text. The Lord knoweth the days of the up- 
right. I purpose to discourse on these words ; 
and I will endeavour to show what is implied in 
them, and what uses may be made of the truths 
which they teach. 

I. By the days of the upright, in this passage, 
is to be understood the life of the righteous, as it 
flows on from day to day. God is acquainted with 
their life ; that is, with all that they act, or speak, 
or think. 

He observes their actions. Their deeds of pie- 
ty are seen by him. Their acts of charity, though 
many of them are secrets to the world, are per- 
formed under the eye of God. He regards the 
fidelity, with which they discharge the various du- 
ties arising from the relations, in which they stand 
to their families, and to the societies with which 
they are connected. He beholds their acts of 
self-denial, which leads them to prefer virtue to 



?i." H 



y 



SERMON II. 17 

pleasure ; of humility, which induces them to hon- 
our others more than themselves; of patience, 
which enables them to endure with cheerfulness 
the evils sent by Providence; of benevolence, 
which causes them to take an animated and inte- 
resting part in every thing, that concerns the hap- 
piness of their fellow creatures. 

God observes their words. He sees with what 
discretion they govern their tongues; and how 
carefully they avoid uttering any thing, which 
might dishonour religion, sully the purity of the 
innocent, give pain to a virtuous mind, or injure the 
reputation of an absent brother. Though the 
temptations to offend here are stronger, than in 
almost any other instance of moral conduct, and 
the crime apparently less; yet their Maker with 
complacence observes, that they never suffer vani- 
ty, or self-love, or jealousy, or envy, to give a 
loose to their speech ; or to entice them to trans- 
gress the bounds, which devotion, chastity, or 
charity prescribe. 

God in particular observes their thoughts. 
These motions of the mind, which for the most 
part are unknown to the world, are not unknown 
to that allwise Being, who penetrates the human 
heart. He sees the secret devotion, which inhabits 
their breast; the deep contrition, which they feel 
for the offences, that they have been led to commit 
3 



18 SERMON II. 

by the infirmity of human nature ; the care, with 
which they watch over their thoughts; their ar- 
dent wishes for perfection ; their fervent resolu- 
tions to correct whatever is wrong in themselves, 
and to assimilate themselves still more to the di- 
vine image; the good will, which they cherish to 
all their fellow creatures; and the sympathy and 
tenderness, which are excited within them by a 
view of the miseries of mankind. 

God observes these thinfrs with delio;ht; but 
this is not all: he notes them in his book; and he 
determines to reward them with peace of heart in 
the present world, and with everlasting happiness 
in another state. The Supreme Being is a specta- 
tor of every thing ^vhich passes here below; but 
he is not an indifferent spectator: he looks at the 
upright with the eye of benevolence, that he may 
support and bless them; that by the joy, with 
which he fills their souls, he may encourage them 
to persevere, and inspire them with new motives 
to increase in piety and virtue. 

II. Such are the truths, which are taught in 
the text. Important uses may be made of them. 

The good man, who is conscious that he is act- 
ing under the eye of God ; that an omniscient 
Being beholds all that he does, and all that he 
thinks; and that he will assuredly bless his virtu- 



SERMON II. 19 

ous exertions ; must be inspired with a courage 
and zeal, which no obstacle can resist. In the 
venerable presence of his Judge, he is afraid to 
transgress any of his laws; under the inspection 
of his Father and Friend, gratitude and love re- 
strain him from forgetting for a moment that affec- 
tion, which is due to the best of beings. 

In particular, the belief, that the Lord knoweth 
his days, supports the good man under the various 
temptations and trials, to which he is subjected in 
the present state ; for he is convinced that they 
are sent upon him, not in cruelty, but mercy. The 
temptations, to which he is exposed, are designed 
to give strength to his resolutions and firmness to 
his virtue; to render him a vigilant, active, and in- 
trepid servant of God. The trials and afflictions, 
through which he is made to pass, are intended to 
purify his soul from every thing which is earthlv, 
to associate it with heavenly objects, and to raise 
it to the Being, who is the fountain of ineffable 
bliss. 

The text then contains important meanings and 
uses. You will not be surprised, my brethren, 
that I have selected it on this occasion ; for you 
perceive its application to the respectable woman, 
whose remains in the past week we conveyed to 
the tomb. The high rank, which she had attained 



20 SERMON ir. 

in the church of Christ by her piety and sanctity, 
her venerable old age, my long acquaintance with 
her character, and the strong ties of friendship and 
gratitude, with which I have been bound to her, 
will justify mc in taking more particular notice of 
her, than has been usual from this pulpit. You 
would not pardon me, if I should suffer so excellent 
a christian to pass off the stage, without giving her 
my applause ; for you believe with me, that the 
contemplation of her example will be useful to you 
and your children. 

Our respected friend was the daughter of an 
eminent merchant, who was distinguished for his 
honour, his probity, and his generosity. He was 
a pillar of this society, a strict, conscientious, ra- 
tional, and devout churchman. At the period in 
which he flourished, the church of England might 
be considered as one of the most liberal religious 
institutions in the country. It had adopted none 
of the peculiar doctrines of Geneva ; but its 
preachers inculcated good morals, and laid little 
stress on mere faith. This is evident, not only 
from tradition, but from the sermons, which are 
left in print by the episcopal clergymen of that 
age. Such was the religion, which her father 
believed ; and this he taught to his children. He 
was a man of piety ; and he spent much time with 
his family, not only in church, but in his house, in 



SERMON II. 21 

devotional exercises. Her mother was a devout 
and accomplished woman; and she educated her 
daughters in the strictest principles and manners 
of purity, delicacy, and virtue. Thus our friend 
was good and religious from her infancy; but her 
goodness had nothing in it, which was repulsive; 
and her religion, nothing, which was sour or 
austere. Born in the former part of the last cen- 
tury, she received the education, which was usually 
bestowed on refined women at that period. In 
her might be seen what is sometimes styled the 
manners of the old school : her deportment was 
erect and dignified ; it inspired respect, and fre- 
quently awe. 

But her intimate friends, attracted by her affa- 
bility, and charmed with the sprightliness of her 
conversation, soon lost the uneasiness of constraint; 
for she was the child of fancy, and she had receiv- 
ed from nature a large portion of wit, which flash- 
ed in coruscations, unexpected and beautiful. Wit, 
which is always delightful, is peculiarly so, when it 
is restrained by modesty, candour, and religion; 
when, like hers, it discloses new beauties in the 
object, on which it shines ; but neither dazzles with 
an offensive flame the sight of the innocent, nor is 
hurled with impious boldness against the throne of 
God. Her conversation was not only entertaining 
by its wit, but also instructive by its good sense. 



52 SERMON II. 

Her memory being tenacious, she had treasured up 
in her mind a large stock of knowledge, which she 
knew how to clothe in the graces and elegances of 
language. In her observations there was frequent- 
ly an ingenuity and originality, which industry may 
in vain attempt to reach, but which genius only 
has power to bestow on her favourite sons and 
daughters. Such appeared the character of her 
mind, when more than thirty years ago I became 
first acquainted with it. Its lustre undoubtedly 
was in some measure dimmed by age ; but its light 
still shone, though with enfeebled rays, till the last 
years of her life. 

As she had endeavoured from her earliest youth 
to make herself well acquainted with her duty, she 
was sensible that the principal part, which she had 
to perform, was to discharge with fidelity the obli- 
gations, imposed on her by the situations and rela- 
tions, in which she was placed by divine Provi- 
dence ; and these were her domestick obligations. 
In neatness, order, industry, and skill in the man- 
agement of a family, she may justly be proposed 
as a model; 1 have never heard of an instance, 
which was better entitled to approbation ; and I 
cannot conceive of any thing more perfect. Good 
wives are so common in this country, that great 
merit in this relation does not excite any distin- 
guished applause ; it is sufficient to say of her 



SERMON II. 23 

therefore, that she held an honourable station 
among this numerous class. The view, in which I 
have always contemplated her character with most 
delight, is that of a mother. In her attention and 
affection to her children she was constant and un- 
remitted. She lived chiefly for them j and the 
principal object of her cares and endeavours was 
to make them good and happy. An exquisite sen- 
sibility, which filled her heart, rendered them the 
source to her of great joy, but unhappily also of 
great sorrow; for death frequently entered her 
house, and tore from it her children. The loss in 
particular of one daughter, who sunk into the 
grave at the interesting age of fifteen, whom I re- 
member only once to have seen, but who is describ- 
ed by all who knew her, to have been as good as 
she was lovely, imbittered many years of the 
mother's life. But God educed many blessings 
from this afflictive event ; and doubtless much of 
that kind sympathy toward others, for which she 
was distinguished, flowed from this fountain of her 
own grief. 

In another relation, that of a mistress, she shone 
with equal lustre. Merit is not as common in this 
character, as in that of a mother ; and is therefore 
the more highly to be prized. There are many 
mistresses, who satisfy themselves with paying 
their wages to the young women, placed under 



24 SERMON U. 

their care, and with treating them with general 
kindness and indulgence ; but who do not think 
themselves under obliorations to watch over their 
morals, or to instruct them in the doctrines and 
duties of religion. This was not the view, which 
was entertained by our enlightened friend : she 
gave to her domesticks the same religious and mo- 
ral instruction, which she bestowed on her chil- 
dren. The consequence was, that her house was 
the school of piety and virtue ; and that many 
young women, whom she had trained up, became, 
after they were settled in life, as respectable for 
the stations which they held in society, as they 
were for their purity and goodness. 

That her active virtue was not confined within 
the walls of her own house, the poor of this church, 
as well as many other distressed persons, will bear 
witness. They will say, that charity to the indi- 
gent was the grace, which was most conspicuous 
in her character : to them it appeared that her 
chief employment was to take care of the wretch- 
ed. The duty of compassion had been so long 
practised by her, that it had become a habit. She 
was constantly seeking objects, on whom she might 
bestow her alms ; or contriving means for the re- 
lief of those, with whom she was acquainted. 
But her sympathy was not excited only by the 
poor J she took a tender part in all the sorrows of 



SERMON II. 25 

her friends, whatever might be their source. She 
wept with them, when they wept ; and she rejoic- 
ed with them, when they were prosperous and 
happy; for her heart was as benevolent, as it was 
enlarged: God dwelt in it; and he it was, by 
whom it was filled and expanded. 

1 have already suggested, that she began her 
life with the practice of religion ; and I would now 
add, that piety continued to adorn her character, 
as long as consciousness remained. She spent 
much of her time in acts of devotion, and in read- 
ing the sacred scriptures and other religious books. 
This was her frequent employment in the days of 
health and prosperity ; and it constituted almost 
her sole occupation during the last year of her life, 
which was passed in bodily pain, but which was 
alleviated by prayer and devout meditation. Hap- 
pily she died at last without distress, and glided 
insensibly to the grave, her countenance brighten- 
ing more and more with the light of heaven, as 
she approached the celestial regions. 

I pretend not to say, that she was exempt from 
faults. Those, who have heard of her eminent 
purity, charity, and devotion, may perhaps be ready 
to suspect, that though she was free from all other 
weaknesses, yet that she might be proud of her 
religion and sanctity. But those, who judge in 
this manner, are unacquainted with her character. 
4 



26 SERMON II. 

If she was distinguished for any virtue, it was for 
humility. She thought not highly of her attain- 
ments in piety and goodness. So far from obtain- 
ing a full assurance that God approved her, she 
was frequently alarmed with the apprehension, 
that she was not the object of his complacence ; 
and these fears she entertained, not only in the last 
years of her life, when it may be supposed that 
her mind was in some degree impaired by age and 
disease, but in many former moments of ease and 
health. These alarms were not occasioned by 
superstitious notions, but by the consciousness, 
which she appeared to possess, of the imperfection 
of her moral and religious character. She had 
undoubtedly exalted her standard of duty to an 
elevated point, to the height which Jesus reached, 
but which probably no man or woman ever attains 
in the present world ; and it is no wonder, when 
she compared her life with the life of her Saviour, 
that the perfection, at which she aimed, was be- 
yond her acquisition. I do not condemn her 
doubts ; for I believe that they are apt to enter 
every mind, which is accustomed to self-examina- 
tion. The best consolation, which even the most 
pious and virtuous can obtain in this world, is the 
persuasion, that God is good, though they are im- 
perfect ; and the utmost, which they can expect in 



SERMON II. 27 

their last moments, is, like this excellent christian, 
to hope with trembling. 

Her life and character inculcate several useful 
lessons. I have taken this view of them, not only 
that I might pay the tribute of respect, which is 
due to her memory, but that I might impress these 
lessons on your minds. 

Her example teaches the benefit of early piety 
and virtue. The full advantage of these acquisi- 
tions cannot be enjoyed, except by those who have 
made them in the morning of their days, and who 
have never lost them. This is in particular true 
of the female sex. When women deviate into vice, 
it is in their power to repent; and there is no 
doubt, when they do repent, their Maker will for- 
give them: but repentance can only heal them; 
it cannot restore the native blush of innocence ; it 
cannot remove the scars of deformity, which vice, 
even when it is expelled, always leaves in the cha- 
racter. No, my young friends, you cannot become 
completely respectable in this world, unless, like 
the departed saint, who was so much the object of 
your veneration, you have been always good and 
always pious. 

Finally, another lesson, which her example in- 
culcates, is, that though virtue must not look for 
its perfect reward, till it reaches paradise ; yet 



28 SERMON II. 

that God seldom fails to crown it with honour even 
in the present scene. Its natural tendency is to 
produce tranquillity, cheerfulness, health, long life, 
the love of friends, the esteem of the wise, and 
the admiration of all. Our departed friend enjoy- 
ed in a great measure all these blessings ; and 
there can be no doubt that they were the fruits of 
her moral and religious qualities. The attention 
of her children in particular, which contributed so 
much to the comfort and happiness of her latter 
years, was the necessary effect of her own good 
conduct as a parent: it was the unavoidable result 
of that gratitude which was due to the care and 
tenderness, with which she had watched over 
them in their infant and youthful days. You have 
then, my hearers, every motive to be virtuous. 
Goodness and piety render you respectable in this 
world; and still greater rewards are to be ex- 
pected in another world ; they will fdl you with 
immortal bliss, and irradiate you with immortal 
glory. 

I hope these motives will have their proper 
effect on the minds of the youth of this society, 
particularly on the minds of the younger branches 
of the family ; and that it will induce them to copy 
her virtues. But the instruction is addressed not 
only to them, but to us all. It is a voice from the 
tomb, solemn and affectionate ; and it is the only 



SERMON II. 29 

one, which we can now hear : for we shall no 
more see her in the house of prayer ; we shall not 
agrain meet her at the table of the Lord ; God has 
laid his hand upon her, and she sleeps ; but we 
trust she sleeps in Jesus ; and that we shall meet 
her again in the city of the great King, when it 
has been renovated by the power of the Almighty. 



NOTES. 



The following Notices of Mrs. Bulpinch appeared 
in the publick news-papers. 

Extract from the Boston Gazette of Feb. 20, 1815. 

On the evening of the 15th instant depart- 
ed this life, Madam SUSAN BULFINCH, aged 
81 years, relict of the late Dr. Thomas Bulfinch, 
and daughter of Charles Apthorp, Esq. former- 
ly a distinguished merchant of this town. Few 
persons have acted their part in life more honoura- 
bly, or left behind them a more revered and che- 
rished memory, than this respectable lady. Nature 
had given her intellectual powers of uncommon 
vigour; and she had cultivated them in early life 
with great assiduity, and adorned them by various 
reading, and by habitual intercourse with improved 
society. There was a propriety and decorum in 
her manners, a strength, richness, variety, know- 
ledge of life, candour, and cheerfulness in her con- 
versation, which endeared her to all who had the 



NOTES. Si 

privilege of her acquaintance. Her reverence for 
the Supreme Being was unfeigned and constant. 
This principle supported her through severe afflic- 
tions, and became the parent of many virtues. She 
was a Christian from conviction, from a careful 
study of the Scriptures, from an enlightened and 
upright mind. She was a Christian too, with- 
out an exclusive spirit or bigotry, conscious of 
her infirmities, and looking to Heaven for light 
and assistance and forgiveness. In the relations of 
])rivate life, as a wife, a mother, a friend and patro- 
ness of the poor, an attentive consoler of the sor- 
rowful, a friend to all practicable modes of bene- 
ficence, she exhibited the divine spirit of Chris- 
tianity. Her life, thus adorned with moral and 
intellectual graces, terminated in a serene, dignifi- 
ed and venerated old age. Death advanced slow- 
ly and without terrours, and this ripe shock of corn 
was at length gathered in its season. S. C. 



Extract from the JVew-England Palladium of Feb. 
21, 1815. 

Departed this life, on the 15th inst. in the 
81st year of her age. Madam SUSAN BUL- 
FINCH, relict of Dr. Thomas Bulfinch, and 
daughter of Charles Apthorp, Esq. formerly a 



32 NOTES. 

distinguished merchant and eminent citizen of this 
town. — Her remains were yesterday respectfully 
deposited in the silent tomb. 

This exemplary woman was endowed, by the 
Giver of all Good, with a firm mind and ex- 
traordinary powers of understanding, which were 
cultivated with care by education, and exercised 
and increased through life by dihgent reading and 
accurate observation. Long will her numerous 
and extensive acquaintance dwell with pleasure on 
the recollection of her distinguished social powers ; 
on the brilliancy of her conversation, marked by 
candour and sincerity, and enriched from the stores 
of an extensive memory; and on the solid instruc- 
tions of her matured and well-regulated judgment. 
Persons of all ages and of both sexes, can bear 
testimony to the charm of her manners, and to the 
dignity, softened by the smile of benevolence, with 
which she, as it were, presided in the centre of the 
social circle. Her clear sense of duty, warmed 
by the feelings of a most alTectionate heart, led her 
to acquit herself with zeal in the various relations 
of an attentive child, of an affectionate wife, of the 
instructive and devoted mother, of the cordial and 
sympathising friend. Her religion was sincere 
and fervent, but not gloomy. With an unshaken 
trust in the providence of God, she enjoyed the 
favours he bestowed, with cheerful piety ; and en- 



NOTES. 33 

dured the troubles and varied cares of a long life 
with firmness and pious resignation. Of a consti- 
tution of body naturally delicate, she bore with 
patience the numerous pains with which she was 
tried, and seemed always a living evidence of a 
superiour and immortal part, rising above the 
weakness of human nature. 

Her last and distressingr illness was borne with 
such composure, such patience, that her chamber 
exhibited a fit temple for religion, and the true 
portal of a heavenly world. With benevolence 
toward every member of the Christian family, 
her warmest feelings were reserved for those of 
her own communion. By her punctual and regu- 
lar attendance on the services and ordinances of 
religion, she displayed her thorough conviction of 
its truth and her confidence in its promises. The 
poor of all descriptions found her an able adviser 
and a bountiful friend. To pass through the suc- 
cessive stages of life with propriety, exhibiting in 
each, a bright display of the virtues most appro- 
priate thereto ; to give an example to immediate 
descendants and to society at large ; to glorify 
God, by making the existence he has bestowed, an 
universal blessing, and by evidencing a correct 
model of the Christian character; these are the 
purposes for which human beings are sent into this 
transitory and lower world ; and where these 
5 



34 NOTES. 

duties are well performed, as they uniformly have 
been by the subject of this memoir, the survivers 
should not sorrow as those who have no hope : but 
may rest assured, that her reward will be great, in 
a higher and better state of existence. C. B. 



We have also received the following from another 
hand. 

This estimable lady was distinguished for 
her superiour powers of mind, her clear and deci- 
sive judgment, her strong and regulated affections, 
her fine literary taste, and for her consistent and 
charitable religious sentiments. In her, society 
loses no uninterested spectator of passing events 
whether public or private ; — the poor lose the 
friend whose ready and attentive ear was open to 
their griefs, and whose active mind was never tired 
of affording relief 

To her family she has been a dignified and dis- 
tinguished ornament and head, to society an exam- 
ple of a life spent in the constant practice of those 
important duties, which ennoble the Christian cha- 
racter. Her course is completed. Nothing which 
mortality could do was left undone, and she is now 
gone to receive the reward of her labours. 

S.B. 



SERMON III. 



OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF THE REV. SAMUEL 
CARY. 



JOB XIV. 19. 

THOU DESTROYEST THE HOPE OF MAN. 

THE fatal tidings, which during several 
weeks you, my brethren, have anticipated with 
fearful apprehension, have at length reached your 
ears: your young pastor is dead. Neither the 
balmy air of the land, nor the healthful breezes of 
the ocean, the skill of the physician, the tender 
care of affectionate relatives, nor the prayers of 
numerous friends could save his life : he is fallen, 
and lies buried in a foreign clime. It is thus, O 
God, that thou destroyest the hope of man. 

God has destroyed the hope of the publick ; 
another young and learned minister is gone to the 



36 SERMON III. 

grave, whither Buckminster descended before him. 
The enlightened citizen, the patriot, who was num- 
bered among those, on whom the honour of his 
country depended, and who was continually exert- 
ing his talents and industry to advance its reputa- 
tion and welfare, is cut off, not long after he had 
commenced his successful career. The expectation 
of the aid, which this liberal and well instructed 
divine was to afford to the cause of rational reli- 
gion, is frustrated. He no longer lives to defend 
Christianity against the attacks of the infidel. His 
solid and luminous arguments are no longer pro- 
duced for the assent of those, who delight to follow 
a chain of reasoning through the connected links 
of demonstration. 

God has destroyed your hope, my brethren of 
this church. You looked forward with fond antici- 
pation to many years of instruction and usefulness 
on his part, and of pleasure and improvement on 
yours. A body which appeared so firm, a voice 
which resounded in your ears like the voice of 
health itself, loud, penetrating, and commanding, 
promised a long continuance on earth. You mark- 
ed with delight his rapid growth in knowledge, and 
his facility in communicating its treasures. To the 
strong reasoning powers, which first attracted your 
attention, you observed him daily adding the 
graces, which render them more impressing. His 



SERMON III. 37 

imagination, which was always lively, became con- 
tinually more animated ; his taste, which was always 
correct, became more refined ; and his heart, which 
was always warm, became more affectionate, and 
made the tones of his voice and his language still 
more pathetick. As he knew more of you, he lov- 
ed you still more. He was duly sensible of his 
happiness ; and he frequently thanked the benevo- 
lence of Providence for placing him in this town, 
the paradise of clergymen, and in this church, one 
of its chosen walks. He highly approved the 
state of society, which exists among you. It would 
be an endless task to mention the many individuals 
of you, whom he has been heard to commend. He 
rejoiced in your prosperity; but your adversity fill- 
ed his bosom with throbs and his eyes with tears. 
When the amiable youth, the venerable father, the 
respectable matron have died, he has not been able 
to command his agitation ; but his broken voice 
and convulsed features have testified how deeply 
he was affected with your grief In removing from 
you a pastor of such talents, of so much acquired 
knowledge, of such an increasing reputation, and 
of such tender sensibility, God has blasted your 
expectations ; and there is an end of all the im- 
provement, which you promised yourselves from his 
labours, and the pleasure which you anticipated in 
his sympathy and friendship. 



38 SERMON III. 

God has, in particular, destroyed the hope of 
the youth of this society. You promised your- 
selves a longer continuance of his instruction. As 
he advanced in life, you were to advance v^ith him ; 
and every new year was to strengthen your mutual 
friendship. By his persuasion many of you were 
induced to join him at the table of your Lord, 
to commemorate there the death of your benevo- 
lent Redeemer. But he will never again present 
to you the bread of life or the cup of salvation. 
The voice of a brother will no more sound in your 
ears. The charm, which divine truths receive from 
being uttered by one of your own age, has ceased ; 
for he, whose manly form, vigorous tones, and 
graceful delivery commanded your attention, lies 
cold in the grave. 

God has also destroyed the hope of the children 
of this society. To their religious instruction your 
deceased pastor was peculiarly attentive. He not 
only by his exhortations greatly increased the num- 
ber of communicants among the young, but he 
also spent much time in catechising the children ; 
and it was he who first taught their sweet voices 
to repeat in publick the devout hymn. The cus- 
tom has been attended with happy effects. Whilst 
it has delighted the children, it has, I doubt not, 
rendered them more mindful of the duty, which 
they owe to God, to their parents, and to one 



SERMON III. 39 

another. They will hear therefore with tender 
sorrow of the death of their much loved pastor, 
whose face they cannot see again, till they shall be 
transported to that pleasant country, where the 
good, whether old or young", dwell forever in the 
presence of their Redeemer. 

God, by the death of this ardent and affectionate 
man, has destroyed the hope of his intimate friends. 
How sweet has been your communion with him ! 
How delightful has it been to impart to him your 
thoughts, and to receive his in return ! His gene- 
rous zeal, his disinterestedness, the sacrifices which 
he has made for you, have won your hearts. But 
whilst you were flattering yourselves, that you 
should enjoy the pleasures of his friendship for ma- 
ny long years, he is snatched from your sight. 
His voice will not again utter the notes of affec- 
tion ; his eye will no more beam on you with be- 
nignity. 

God has destroyed the hope of a more tender 
friend. When this interesting young woman ap- 
peared among you, by her accomplishments, her 
discretion, her gentleness, her loveliness, she 
charmed every heart; and happy were you, when 
she gave her hand to your esteemed pastor. She 
entered the conjugal state with the fairest pros- 
pects before her. She became the wife of a wise, 
respectable, and honourable man ; and whilst she 



40 SERMON III. 

had reason to rejoice in the fervour of his affection, 
and to be satisfied with the esteem, in which he 
was held bj society, she was placed in a situation, 
in which she was the object of the attention and 
kindness of numerous friends. Might she not 
without presumption look forward to a long life of 
felicity ? But how is her hope destroyed ! — Called 
to bury her husband in a foreign land, at a distance 
from her parents, at a distance from her infant; a 
widow in the bloom of life ; sunk from light and 
cheerfulness to a gloomy state, the pangs of which 
can be felt, but not described ! 

God has destroyed the hope of the parent. 
The pastor, whose death you lament, was the only 
son of his mother; and she is a widow. With the 
aid of her enlightened husband, she had carried 
him on from infancy to youth, and from youth to 
manhood. He had passed unhurt through those 
dangerous paths, where so many of the young fall 
a prey to temptation ; and her delighted eye be- 
held him in the vigour of life, learned, virtuous, and 
pious, discharging the duties of an important sta- 
tion with honour to himself and benefit to others, 
and rising continually in reputation with the wise 
and good. But whilst she is rejoicing in his pros- 
perity with the fondness of maternal love, he is 
hurled from the summit of usefulness and happi- 
ness ; and nothing is now left for her, but to de- 



SERMON III. 41 

scend mourning to tlie grave, the dark abode of 
her husband and son. 

It is thus, my brethren, that God has destroyed 
your hope. But is the Creator of the world, the 
author of every blessing, a destroyer ? Does he 
afflict the children of men.-^ Does evil, as well as 
good, proceed from him ? Yes ; this is the doc- 
trine, which is taught in the sacred scriptures ; but 
you ought not to be offended with it, or to con- 
ceive that it detracts any thing from the benevo- 
lence of the Supreme Being. In truth this doc- 
trine is the only source of comfort under the 
afflictions, which you suffer. Whether God could 
have created the world, without permitting evil to 
have a place in it, is not the question. The fact 
is, that evil exists ; and it behooves you to view it 
in the light, which renders its weight the most 
tolerable. To what cause then will you attribute 
your afflictions; to chance and blind fate, or to 
God ? If you choose the former supposition, what 
hope or consolation can it afford you ? Chance and 
fate are unintelligible causes, the operations of 
which cannot be traced. You have been unhappy 
to-day; and you hope that a fortunate accident 
will take place, and render you happy to-morrow : 
but you have no foundation for such hope ; for 
accidents may continue to be unfortunate, and only 
plunge you deeper in misery. 
6 



42 SERMON III. 

In particular, what consolation can chance or 
fate afford you, when you are deprived of a belov- 
ed friend ? Can chance restore him to life ? Can 
fate remove from his eyelids the shadow of death ? 
There are friends, who are too dear to you, to be 
given up forever. Nature cannot support the idea, 
that they are never to be seen again. Scarcely 
can you resign them for the few years, in which 
they precede you. Your hearts would break, 
would burst with anguish, if you did not believe, 
that you should once more behold their face, that 
you should once more hear the sound of their 
voice. Chance and fate however consign your 
friends to everlasting destruction : they are not the 
authors of immortality ; they have no power to 
raise them from the grave. But when you believe 
that it is God, who hath killed the object of your 
love, you believe also that it is God, who will 
make him alive. He can once more breathe life 
into the sleeping dust ; and he has promised, that 
all who are in the grave, shall hereafter come forth 
at the voice of his Son. This truth diminishes 
your affliction, and causes light to break on your 
disconsolate hearts. You say, the friend, whose 
death we are lamenting, is not taken from us for- 
ever : he is only gone to a place, whither we shall 
soon follow him : and thouofh even a short absence 
from so beloved an object is painful ; yet the ex- 



SERMON III. 43 

peclatlon of seeing him again revives our droop- 
ing spirits, and enables us calmly to resign ourselves 
to the will of Heaven. 

The doctrine, which we are vindicating, affords 
you also the highest consolation in affliction, be- 
cause it teaches you, that it is sent by a Being, 
who is infinitely wise and merciful. Chance and 
fate possess no moral qualities : they are neither 
intelligent nor good : they pursue no plan ; and 
trouble and pain proceeding from their hands can- 
not be intended to promote the final good of those 
who endure them. But all the dispensations of 
God are governed by the rules of wisdom and 
benevolence. True it is, that he destroys your 
hope ; that the evil which you suffer comes from 
him. He sends it not however as evil, but as a 
real and essential good. The afflictions, with 
which he visits you, are designed to produce some 
benevolent purpose of happiness, either to your- 
selves or others. You behold in them all, not the 
hand of a tyrant, not the hand of a merciless exe- 
cutioner, who delights in the torments of his vic- 
tims, but the hand of an affectionate Father. This 
is the endearing title, by which he commonly makes 
himself known : he is the Father of mercies, and 
the God of all consolation. The scriptures do 
well therefore, — and you do well in believing 
them, — when they attribute evil to God ; for in this 



44 SERMON III. 

view it ceases to be evil, and is converted into an 
unchangeable and everlastino' £;ood. There is 
now nothing wrong in the world, except the moral 
evil, which men wilfully introduce, and with which 
they only are justly chargeable. Every thing 
which God does is right and benevolent ; and he 
is as much your friend, when the gloomy clouds of 
affliction surround you, as when he lifts upon you 
the light of his countenance. 

You cannot, it is true, always explain fully the 
reasons of his conduct, nor discern all die motives, 
from which he destroys your hope ; but as you 
can clearly perceive many of these reasons and 
motives, you ought to dismiss your complaints, 
believing that what now appears dark will here- 
after be illuminated, and that when this terrestrial 
scene shall be closed, every thing, which God has 
ordained, will be found to be wise, and just, and 
good. 

With similar arguments I doubt not your de- 
ceased pastor would address you, if it was now in 
his power to speak ; for he was accustomed to see 
God in every thing; and he was always prepared 
to console the afflicted. You recall to mind with 
melancholy, but aifectionate, recollections these and 
other valuable parts of his character: and you 
will not be displeased, if 1 exhibit them in one 
view before your sight. 



SERMOT^ III. 45 

The early life of Mr. Gary was innocent, active, 
and well-disciplined. It was passed under the care 
of parents, who were distinguished for their good 
sense, knowledge, liberality, urbanity, discretion, 
and virtue. In this domestick school he acquired 
those correct principles and pure habits of morali- 
ty, which continued to the last. At college, in the 
midst of a class, several of the members of which 
were then eminent for their talents, and who are 
now araono- the most brilliant stars that adorn our 
hemisphere,* he was conspicuous for his taste, his 
diligence, and his love of sound learning. At 
Commencement there was assigned to him a hon- 
ourable part, by which he excited attention and 
acquired reputation. In a subsequent perform- 
ance, at the inauguration of President Webber, lie 
rose still hiijher. His oration on that occasion has 
rarely been equalled, perhaps never excelled. The 
pronunciation of certain words was in such thrilling 
tones of eloquence, that it charmed every classical 



* One of Mr. Gary's classmates, who was in the author's mind, 
when he wrote the above, is the late Rev. Samuel C. Thacher of 
Boston, a gentleman distinguished among the clergy of Massachusetts 
for mildness of character, unaffected politeness, correct taste, ele- 
gant style, and classical learning, purity of morals, charity, and piety. 
As specimens of his talents, and of the interesting manner in which 
he was able to write, the reader is referred to his Oration delivered at 
the inauguration of President Kirkland, his Memoir of Mr. Buck- 
minster, his Essays and Reviews in the Anthology, and his printed 
Sermons. 



46 SERMON III. 

ear. The skill and the genius, which he display- 
ed in these compositions, led in some measure to 
his settlement in this church. You had heard of 
his fame, and when he appeared before you, you 
thought him worthy of becoming your instructer. 
His talents in the pulpit, after the hints which have 
been given in the first part of this discourse, I need 
not farther describe. They met your approbation, 
which you have often been heard to express. He 
was held in high estimation on account of them, by 
judicious persons, who are not members of this so- 
ciety. The qualities, which they most admired in 
him were clear conceptions, and the power of com- 
municating them in a forcible manner. 

As a man his excellent virtues entitled him to 
your respect and affection. The moral quality, 
which predominated in his character, was integrity : 
he was upright in speech, and upright in action. 
He sought after truth with zeal and diligence ; and 
when he thought he had discovered it, he was hon- 
est in declaring it without disguise. In his conduct 
he was honourable; he was superiour to meanness 
of every sort; and he always paid a just regard to 
the rights of others. There was nothing about 
him of the conceit of egotism, or the flippancy of 
vanity. His deportment was grave, his conversa- 
tion reserved, his manners dignified : the excel- 
lent parts of his character were chiefly the ef- 
fects of self-reverence, which he esteemed one of 



SERMON III. 47 

the best guards of virtue. He was far however 
from thinking himself infaUible or impeccable. He 
knew, that like other mortals, he was frail and 
liable to err: he was not ashamed therefore, when 
he had committed it, to acknowledge a fault : his 
mind was open to conviction ; and he was ever 
ready to yield up his own opinion, when it was 
proved to him, that the opinion of others was more 
correct. His heart was exempt from the narrow 
prejudice, which leads some persons to suppose, 
that wisdom and virtue are confined to the men of 
their own party. He has often been heard to speak 
favourably of the talents and performances of those, 
who diflfered the most from him in their creeds. 

As his virtues were all of a manly cast, he was 
distinguished for his generosity, his disinterested- 
ness, his gratitude : it appeared as if he was afraid, 
that he never could return kindness and respect 
enough to those, from whom he had received fa- 
vours. His mind was free from jealousy : he was 
willino; that others should shine and be admired : 
he listened to their praises without envy; he be- 
stowed on them the applause which was their due ; 
and he was the first to discover their merit, parti- 
cularly the merit of his contemporaries, by whose 
brilliant talents he was in most danger of being 
thrown into the shade. His heart being gene- 
rous, expansive, ardent, communicated some of its 
warmth to his temper, which perhaps was too apt 



48 SERMON III. 

to be inflamed ; but he was not, like some weak 
men, proud of a fault, because it was accompanied 
by generous qualities : he was conscious of it, and 
endeavoured to correct it. He looked into his own 
heart, accustomed himself to self-disciphne ; and 
was daily improving in moderation and gentleness, 
as well as in sympathy, benevolence, and piety. 

He loved his profession, devoted himself with 
zeal to its various duties, was ambitious of shining 
in it, and of storing his mind with a knowledge of 
the other sciences, which contribute to the welfare 
of society, and add to the reputation of a liberal 
and enlightened clergyman. Beside reading many 
books, and carefully composing many sermons, he 
undertook a theological work, which he intended 
to publish, but of which he completed no more 
than the introductory chapter. Intense study im- 
paired his health ; and he sacrificed his life in the 
cause of learning and religion. Like other young 
men among us, who are undermining their constitu- 
tions by their literary toils, and sinking into an 
untimely grave, he appeared to forget that mid- 
night vigils and labours of the brain, however they 
may enlarge the mind, are destructive to the body; 
and though he knew so many things, yet he seemed 
not to know, that death lurks unseen in the pen of 
the nocturnal scribe. 

When this king of terrours entered his bosom, 
he felt his presence within him ; he knew that his 



SERMON III. 49 

case was hopeless; but he submitted to his fate 
with the calmness of a philosopher and the forti- 
tude of a christian. Though it was hard in the 
bloom of Hfe to quit this pleasant world, where he 
was placed in so conspicuous a station ; to quit this 
church, where he was so much admired and loved, 
and where he did so much good ; to leave the 
friends who were dear to him ; his mother, of 
whose declining years he was the support and con- 
solation ; his amiable and affectionate wife, and his 
darling and promising infant : — yet he was ready 
to obey the summons of his heavenly Father, and 
to pass through the dark cavern of death, if it was 
the will of his Creator. The entrance into this 
gloomy mansion was not to be here, but in a dis- 
tant land. He embarked for England, overwhelm- 
ed with tenderness and gratitude by the kindness, 
which you showed him at his departure. He ar- 
rived at the desired port, but did not long survive. 
All hope of seeing him again in this world is now 
destroyed. His body is buried in the country of 
his ancestors ; but his memory is deposited in your 
hearts ; where it will long remain, the object of 
your fervent and grateful love. 



%* Mr. Gary was the son of the Rev. Thomas 
Gary, and was born at Newbury-port in Massa- 
chusetts, November 24th. 1785. He graduated 



7 



50 NOTE. 

at Harvard University in the year 1804, and was 
ordained minister of Kingschapel in Boston, Janu- 
ary 1st. 1809. He died at Royston, October 22d. 
1815, and was buried in the Unitarian Burying 
Ground at Hackney. There is an inscription, 
written by his classmate. Professor Norton, on the 
monument which covers his remains. At his re- 
quest, signified to his wife just as Hfe was departing, 
the Rev. Mr. Belsham of London read the funeral 
service over him. The friends of Mr. Gary grate- 
fully acknowledge this attention, as well as the 
numerous acts of sympathy and kindness, which 
he and the Rev. Mr. Aspland of Hackney perform- 
ed to Mrs. Gary during her residence in England. 
In the month of May of the present year, (1820,) 
the burial place at Hackney was visited by two 
friends, Mr. Francis Boott and Mr. Joseph Goolidge. 
Whilst they gathered the wild flowers, which en- 
circled the grave of the man, " whom they had 
known, and loved, and admired," to be sent to 
Mrs. Gary and another friend in Boston, they 
" were both impressed with feelings of deep sad- 
ness ;" but they soothed their melancholy by plant- 
ing other flowers in the room of those, which thej 
had removed. 



SERMON IV. 



OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF JOSEPH COOLIDGE, ESQ. 



PROVERBS X. 7. 
THE MEMORY OF THE JUST IS BLESSED. 

AMONG the afflictions, to which human beings 
are subject, one of the greatest is the death of a 
dear and valuable friend. It is an evil, which is 
thought to admit of no remedy ; because when his 
body is laid in the dust, he cannot be recalled. 
No art of man can reanimate him : we shall sfo 
to him, but we cannot bring him back to us. If 
he is the head of a family, the centre on which its 
motion depends, the whole domestick machine is 
disarranged by his removal. There is an end of 
all that confidence, which was derived from the 
certainty of his vigilant superintendence, of the 
happiness, which his cheerfulness inspired, of the 



52 SERMON IV. 

tenderness, which met his love ; and the surviving 
family are compelled to enter on an untried and 
melancholy state, calling for new exertions and 
new duties, for which they had not prepared their 
minds ; and whilst their strength is broken by dis- 
tress, they have a more laborious part to perform, 
than when they were aided by the courage, the 
knowledge, and force of him, who heretofore guid- 
ed their actions. It is not to be wondered at 
therefore, that on the decease of such a friend the 
heart should throb with anguish ; and that in the 
first tumults of grief it should be supposed that 
every prop of felicity is taken away. And yet 
under the severest trials, the Supreme Being, who 
never willingly afflicts the children of men, but 
who has always a benevolent purpose to answer in 
the sufferings, which he inflicts on his creatures, 
lifts up the light of his countenance, and diffuses 
consolation into the heart of the mourner. This 
consolation is derived from many sources which 
religion opens, and among others, from the truth, 
which is taught in the text, that the memory of the 
just is blessed. It is no small part of our comfort, 
that the friend whom we have lost, was a just man, 
that his life was stained with no crime, but adorn- 
ed with many eminent virtues ; and that now he is 
gone, his memory is blessed ; that all who survive 
him speak of him with affection and respect. J 



SERMON IV. 53 

request jour attention to this subject, which ap- 
pears to me applicable to our situation at this time, 
when we are lamenting the loss of one of the most 
useful members of our society. It is my design, 
first, to describe the character of a just man ; and, 
secondly, to show that his memory is blessed. 

I. By the just in the sacred scriptures is meant 
the righteous, the good, and the merciful ; or a 
man, who performs all the duties of a child of God 
and a member of society with as much diligence 
and fidelity, as is consistent with the frailty of hu- 
man nature. The just man loves his Maker and 
his fellow creatures. He is pious and devout. He 
endeavours to learn the will of the Supreme Be- 
ing ; and he obeys as far as he can all the commands 
which he has given, whether they are of a positive 
or moral kind. He discharges the relative and 
social duties with propriety. He is an affectionate 
husband, an indulgent parent, a kind master, a 
faithful friend, a patriotick citizen, an active, zeal- 
ous, and beneficent member of the church, and of 
the other societies, to which he has joined himself. 
He strives not only to promote the interest of 
those, with whom he is connected, but to give them 
pleasure. He avoids therefore every thing which 
is harsh and offensive In manners. In the bosom of 
his family, and in the circle of his friends, he is 



54 SERMON IV. 

cheerful and pleasant: he is respectful to the aged, 
particularly to an aged parent, and he smiles be- 
nevolently on the young; so that his approach is 
always welcomed with joy. He is in particular an 
honest man : he is sincere in his words, upright in 
his intentions, strict in keeping his promises. The 
engagements, into which he has entered with in- 
dividuals or the publick, he conscientiously dis- 
charges. He defrauds no one, however strong the 
temptation may be ; and he conceals nothing, the 
disclosure of which would benefit his neighbour 
and injure his own interest. 

Particularly, if Providence has called him to 
embrace the profession of a merchant, punctuality, 
integrity, and honour mark his character. In his 
commercial transactions he manifests a willingness, 
that other men should live decently as well as him- 
self. He does not therefore unmercifully grind the 
faces of the poor, compelling them to toil for less 
than a reasonable profit ; nor does he on any occa- 
sion take an advantage of the necessities of the me- 
chanick and common labourer, building up a fortune 
on the fatigue, the hunger, and the tears of the 
indigent. He is as just to the government under 
which he lives, as to individuals, not defrauding 
the publick revenue, nor engaging in any kinds of 
prohibited commerce; and in his soul he abhors, 
and conscientiously abstains from, all trade and ad- 



SERMON IV. 55 

ventures, which are contrary to common equity 
and humanity. He disdains therefore to grow rich 
by enslaving his fellow men, the unfortunate inhab- 
itants of a torrid climate. Believing that he is ever 
in the presence of God, he is as just, when no hu- 
man eye beholds him, as when his actions are dis- 
played before all the world. 

Whilst he is upright in all his words and con- 
duct, he guides his affairs with discretion. Per- 
suaded that business cannot be transacted with 
advantage, still less that a fortune can be acquired, 
nay more that even embarrassments, and poverty, 
and ruin cannot be avoided, without discretion, he 
is prudent in forming his plans, diligent in execut- 
ing them, and frugal in the use of the profit, which 
is derived from them. He is diligent, because 
Heaven has been pleased to ordain, with the wisest 
and best designs, that man should be subjected to 
constant labour either of the body or mind. Then 
only is he happy, when he is actively engaged. 
His life is sweet and healthful, when he moves with 
rapidity ; but when his exertions cease, his mind 
and body become a prey to languor and spleen, to 
imaginary terrours, and real chagrin. He is pru- 
dent and frugal, because a competence cannot be 
obtained ; and even the most ample fortune cannot 
be preserved from diminution, without foresight, 
vigilance, and economy. For whatever the means 



56 SERMON IV. 

of the richest man may be, they are never so nu- 
merous, as the temptations which are thrown in 
his way. He, who annually spends his thousands, 
and thinks them not sufficient for the gratification 
of all his wants, would find ten thousands unable 
to satisfy him. Solicited daily by his appetites, 
his taste, or his love of elegance and splendour, he 
must deny himself many pleasures, and forego 
many agreeable plans, if he would avoid spending 
more than his income. A forgetfulness of these 
truths has plunged into poverty many persons, who 
have commenced life with large possessions ; and 
hence it is, that wealth seldom descends to the 
third generation. The industry and prudence, by 
which the father acquired and secured it, are re- 
mitted by the son ; the delusive call of pleasure is 
listened to ; and a short career of profusion and 
dissipation is closed with ruin and wretchedness. 

Such is the imperfection of human virtues, and 
so apt is man to carry any habit to an extreme, that 
he, who is discreet and economical in the manage- 
ment of his concerns, will be in danger of becom- 
ing parsimonious. Against this extreme the servant 
of God, of whose actions piety is the animating 
principle, carefully guards himself: he is not only 
just but merciful ; there is room in his heart for 
compassion, as well as for integrity. Whilst he is 
industrious in acquiring property, and prudent in 



SERMON IV. 57 

the use of it, he conscientiously pays all his debts. 
Among these debts he considers none more sacred, 
than that which he owes to the poor. He reli- 
giously therefore appropriates a portion of his in- 
come to this benevolent purpose. Considering 
those who are in adversity as his brothers, he 
relieves their wants as far as his abilities extend. 
He visits the fatherless and widows, feeds the hun- 
gry, and clothes the naked. Without listening to 
the selfish observations of penurious men, who re- 
present the poor as idle, intemperate and dishonest, 
and consequently as deserving their fate, he, on the 
contrary, attends to the dictates of a compassionate 
heart. He is sensible that hunger, nakedness, and 
cold are not less evils, because the sufferer has 
brought them on himself; and that the indigent, 
though perhaps in a degree criminal, are still enti- 
tled to pity. What after all can his alms efiiBct, 
even when they are the most bountiful ? Can they 
restore the poor man to prosperity, if he has fallen 
from it ; or raise him to it, if he has never been in 
such a state ? No : all that they can do is to re- 
lieve his present wants ; and will he hesitate to 
do this, because the famished wretch is not entire- 
ly innocent? What mercy can he expect himself 
from Heaven, if his heart is so inhuman ? Ought 
he not, in imitation of his Creator, to consider the 
frame of man, and to remember that he is dust ? 
8 



58 SERMON IV. 

The just man therefore assists the wretched, even 
when their poverty is the effect of their vices. 

But to the virtuous poor his bounty flows in 
more copious streams. Not waiting to receive the 
petitions of modest indigence, ever afraid of an un- 
gracious repulse, his active charity seeks out such 
meritorious objects ; and he conveys his donations 
to them in the most obhging manner, carefully 
avoiding to depress their hearts with a sense of 
painful inferiority. 

To the industrious and honest, who are strug- 
gling with the difliculiies, which so frequently at- 
tend the beginning of life, the just man shows 
peculiar favour. He assists them with his advice, 
devises for them plans, by which they may most 
readily earn a subsistence. Introduces and recom- 
mends them to others, who may patronize and em- 
ploy them, and indulges them with a liberal credit. 

The character, which I have thus exhibited to 
your view, is a portrait of our deceased friend. 
He was eminently a just man. The largest portion 
of his life was devoted to the pursuits of commerce, 
in which he was actively and profitably engaged; 
and one great source of his profits was the habit 
of appearing at his place of business at an early 
hour in the morning, whilst others were still im- 
mersed in sleep. In a town, where the character 



SERMON IV. 59 

of a fair and honourable merchant is with justice 
so highly prized, he attained a reputation among 
the first. His punctuality and strict integrity are 
still remembered by all, who ever did business 
with him. 

Having retired from the more active scenes of 
business, the latter part of his life was chiefly em- 
ployed in the care of his estate, in visits to the 
most interesting parts of our country, in attention 
and kindness to his family and friends, in promoting 
works of publick utility, to which he was always a 
liberal contributor, and in deeds of chanty. 

The discreet economy, with which he conducted 
himself, enabled him to be thus liberal, without im- 
pairing his property. He was industrious and pru- 
dent in the former part of life, and at every period 
moderate in his own expenses. In his dress, man- 
ners, and habits in general he was simple and plain. 
The wealth, which so many others heedlessly 
waste in extravagance and dissipation, he devoted 
to better purposes. 

The relative duties of life he discharged with 
affection. He loved his family and friends; and 
they loved him. Where the character of a good 
man is peculiarly displayed, there did he shine; in 
the situations of a son, a husband, a father, and a 
brother. 



eo SERMON IV, 

His manners were cheerful and open ; in speech 
he was cautious, never suffering a word of censure 
or slander to escape from his Hps ; in his temper he 
was placable; and I have never known a man, who 
was more ready to overlook an affront, and to for- 
give an injury. 

In his religion he was without ostentation ; but 
we have reason to believe that his benevolence and 
other virtues flowed from the best source, the fear 
and love of God. He was a christian, and he 
thought it his duty to make an open profession of 
the religion of the gospel. Of the church, to 
vt^hich he belonged, he was a beneficent member, 
and zealous in promoting its interest. But howev- 
er great his zeal might be, it was exceeded by his 
candour. Mild and kind, he always treated other 
denominations of christians with respect : there 
was no prejudice and bigotry in his heart; and he 
would not vindicate even what he deemed impor- 
tant with heat and bitterness. 

The reward of his industry, prudence, and be- 
nevolence was a life of distinguished prosperity, 
and above all a cheerful temper. He passed 
through the world pleasantly, blessing others and 
blessed himself. 

When such a man dies, his death is felt as a loss 
to the city in which he resided, to the church of 
which he was a member, and to his family and 



SERMON IV. 61 

friends, who manifest by their tears how dear he 
was to their hearts. But we learn from the text, 
that his memory is blessed ; that is, as the word 
signifies, his memory is sweet: like a fragrant in- 
cense, it perfumes the air, and diffuses blessing 
through an extensive circle of the world. 

II. This truth, which I now proceed, in the 
second place, to consider, must afford great satis- 
faction to the breast of the just man. He will not, 
and he cannot, possibly live or die for himself 
only. Every act of virtue, which he performs, 
blesses his own heart; and it is a still more ex- 
tended blessing to others. Whilst he hved, he ed- 
ified by his good deeds all, by whom he was sur- 
rounded; and the influence of his just and chari- 
table works is not destroyed by his death. The 
memory of his virtues consoles in particular his be- 
reaved friends, and blunts the keen edge of afflic- 
tion, which has been sharpened by his loss. For 
sweet in the ears of the mourner is the sound of 
praise, when it is justly bestowed on a departed 
husband or father; precious are the tears, which 
are shed to his remembrance ; dear is the sympa- 
thy, which is manifested by his acquaintance and 
fellow citizens: but over the tomb of the vitious 
man no accents of praise are uttered, no tears ^are 
shed, and no sympathy is felt. 



62 SERMON IV. 

The memory of the just is blessed in a still more 
eraphatical manner, because the odour of his exam- 
ple remains many years after his decease. The 
character of an industrious, honest, and good man 
is held up as a model for the young, by those who 
undertake to instruct them in the principles of 
virtue, and to guard them against the snares of 
temptation. For it is not sufficient to inculcate 
the precepts of morality, unless at the same time 
it can be shown how they were exhibited in real 
life. If when we recommend dihgence, honesty, 
or charity, we can name the deceased worthy, who 
was active, upright, or beneficent, our exhortations 
make a deeper impression; and virtue is felt to be, 
not only lovely, but practicable. 

The influence of a good example on a man's 
children and descendants is in particular beneficial. 
A veneration for the memory of a deceased father, 
who acquired an honourable rank among his con- 
temporaries by his integrity, is unquestionably a 
powerful motive, which operates on the hearts of 
many, to restrain them from meanness and vice. 
They are ashamed to disgrace the character of 
their parent, and to descend from the high station, 
to which he had attained. The effect of his good 
example extends, not only to his children, but to 
his grandchildren, and still more remote posterity. 
Where his name is preserved, — and it will gene- 



SERMON IV. 63 

rally be preserved by descendants, whose breasts 
are filled with manly, honourable, and generous 
sentiments, — it continues to impart blessings to 
many generations ; and for a long succession of 
years after his body is mouldered in the tomb, it 
scatters among his offspring the incense of virtue. 

Thus the memory of the just is blessed, because 
he blesses his descendants, by inducing them to 
imitate his meritorious example : he also blesses 
them, because he imparts to them a high degree of 
delight, which will last as long as life lasts. There 
is no pleasure superiour to that, which is afforded 
by a descent from worthy progenitors ; and if a 
human being may lawfully be proud of any thing, 
there is nothing; of which he has a better ri^fht to 
be proud, than of being able to say with truth, my 
father was an honest man. 

Such is the sense, in which the memory of the 
just is blessed ; and in this sense blessed is the 
memory of our deceased friend. I will conclude 
the subject by presenting before you one or two 
considerations, which have been suggested by his 
death. 

The first is, that you should endeavour, by the 
practice of the duties of industry, honesty, and 
charity, to acquire and secure a good reputation. 
This you should do, not for your own sake merely ; 



64 SERMON IV. 

but for the benefit of others ; that you may increase 
the happiness and virtue of alJ, to whom your name 
will ever be known, and of your children and de- 
scendants in particular. The love of fame is gen- 
erally an improper principle of conduct; but there 
is one view, in which it may be regarded as a 
laudable motive. It is wrong to pursue it for its 
own sake, and for the pleasure which it is supposed 
to yield : and when it is followed with this inten- 
tion, the pursuit ends in nothing but disappointment 
and mortification ; but it is right to seek after it as 
a valuable inheritance, which you may bequeath to 
your children. In this respect every good man 
owes much to those, who are to come after him ; 
and he should endeavour to distinguish himself by 
his labours, talents, and virtues ; that his posterity 
in all future generations may bless his memory, and 
derive honour and moral improvement from his 
character. Such an inheritance is a more precious 
donation to your family than an estate ; because 
experience shows, that the latter is for the most 
part soon dissipated and passes into other hands ; 
whilst the advantage, which is derived from your 
good name can never be lost, can never be alien- 
ated, can never be embezzled. 

Another consideration, which is suggested by the 
death of our friend, is that it is a warning to those 
of you, who are advanced beyond the meridian of 



SERMON IV. 65 

life, that you will soon be summoned to follow him. 
By his exit a barrier between you and the grave is 
removed. Thirty-eight years have elapsed, since 
you joined with our friend in renewing this reli- 
gious society, which had been suspended during the 
war of the revolution. Those of you, who sur- 
vive, were then young ; but you have now entered 
within the confines of old age. Your fathers, who 
aided you, are all of them gone ; and you are re- 
duced to a small number. Soon not one of you 
will be left. This is a truth, which is adapted to 
alarm you. It is in vain to pretend, that you can 
look on death without a melancholy eye, or that 
you can without reluctance " resign this pleasing, 
anxious being." It is to be hoped that you have 
endeavoured to secure to yourselves an inheritance 
in a better world. But though you must soon 
leave this church to the management of those, who 
have youth and more strength than yourselves ; yet 
you have reason to believe that you leave it in safe 
and careful hands. If you have in any measure 
advanced the cause of free inquiry and rational 
Christianity, your children and successors, I trust, 
will not impair the work, which you have begun ; 
but I have the fullest confidence, that they will 
strive to go on to perfection. 

Finally, another consideration, which is suggest- 
ed by the death of our friend, is, that nothing is of 
9 



66 SERMON IV. 

much value, except piety and virtue. Even the 
love of truth is chiefly estimable, because it con- 
tributes to this end. Of all the earthly blessings, 
which our friend enjoyed, not one is now left, ex- 
cept the reputation of a just man. He can no 
more take a part in the pursuits and pleasures of 
this world ; his body is lifeless, and his hands are 
bound with indissoluble chains. But whilst reli- 
gion teaches us, that he is an immortal being, we 
have sufficient cause to believe that his soul is not 
extinct. A day is approaching, when he will be 
restored to life, when he will rise an incorruptible 
body, without any of the imperfections, which bur- 
dened it in the present state. Let therefore his 
fiiends be comforted with these words : Jesus 
Christ has brought Hfe and immortality to light 
through the gospel. We shall meet him again. 
Let us rejoice in this hope ; and let us ascribe unto 
God, who by his Son has opened unto us the gates 
of everlasting life, all glory and honour, gratitude 
and praise, forever and ever. Amen. 



NOTE. 



Mr. Coolidge was born in Boston, July 
27th. 1747, O. S. and died October 6th. 1820. 
The following Notice of his character appeared in 
the Columbian Centinel for October 14th. 

"Our late highly respectable citizen, Joseph 
Coolidge, Esq. was adorned with those principles 
and virtues, which gained the esteem of the pub- 
lick, and made him a valuable and useful member 
of society. Distinguished as a merchant for his 
activity, punctuality, and strict integrity, he ac- 
quired an independent property, which he enjoyed 
with gratitude, and dispensed libeially. He was 
ever a friend to the prosperity, and delighted in 
the improvement of his native town. He was for 
many years a Director of the former United States 
Branch Bank, and Massachusetts Bank, one of the 
first and most active Directors of the Middlesex 
Canal Corporation, and until the time of his death 
a Trustee of the Humane Society. He was a pi- 



68 NOTE. 

ous christian and a humane man. God had given 
him a fine form of body, a manly, open, and prepos- 
sessing countenance, a clear and accurate mind, a 
cheerful, constant, and uncommon flow of spirits, 
courteous nianners, and a feeling heart. He was 
an excellent husband, a kind, indulgent, and most 
affectionate father. His naturally firm constitu- 
tion continued unimpaired almost to the close of 
life and enabled him to enjoy the society of his 
friends, whom he sincerely loved. A journey to 
the Springs, which he recently took for the benefit 
of his health, afforded him but little relief; but he 
was impressed with gratitude for the attention and 
sympathy of friends and strangers, whom he met 
with there. After his return home, his decline was 
rapid. Fully aware of his situation, he was calm 
and resigned, and sunk gradually to rest, leaving a 
name, which will be ever gratefully cherished by 
his tamily and friends." 



